Mass Effect: My Last Breath
by Demented Assassin
Summary: Shepard experiences the bitter taste of faliure as the Normandy, not just his ship but his home, is lost to mysterious attackers whilst on a routine recon mission. Witness the famed Commander's final thoughts and desperate actions to save his crew. ME2


**Mass Effect - My Last Breath  
**"C'mon baby hold together, hold together!"

It's the last thing I hear before the familiar door in front of me splits open with a roar that tears the very fabric of the air asunder. Clouds of particles are sucked past me as I step over the threshold, feeling the essence of the void sucking at the hardened fabrics of my armoured suit. I can feel my eyes growing wider at the sudden dip in brightness and the only sound I can hear is my own heavy breathing, echoing harshly in the confines of my helmet. As my sight adjusts I find my steps becoming more laboured, and not just because of the magnetic clamps in the soles of my boots.

Though I push forward across the command deck, my eyes wander across surroundings that were so familiar just moments ago. I had spent much of the last few months here on this deck, flanked by a trusted team of Alliance officers, masses of paperwork, the occasional alien and the ever present holographic galaxy map. Now, all the consoles are bathed in the cruel glare of emergency lighting, spitting sparks that disappear almost as soon as they are created. The metal of the hull is torn and sheared and as I look up to the gaping hole above me, pieces of the Normandy spiral out into space, lost forever to the inky blackness.

A deep anger boils within me. This isn't just my ship, this is my home and whoever is attacking us had taken it all in one fell swoop. I can't see them, I don't even know who they are, but they're out there and I feel my teeth grit as I silently swear vengeance upon them. I expect many would feel fear if they contemplated the situation. The attackers had decimated the Normandy in a matter of moments, suggesting technology far beyond anything ever encountered before. The frigate had been running silent, we shouldn't have been detectable on even the most highly-developed scanners. To suggest the notion of taking on these foes would likely sound suicidal to anyone else but I already had a strong suspicion as to who was behind the attack.

I had faced them just weeks ago and I had sworn to bring to an end their machinations, to personally see an end to the cycle of extinction that had been repeated for countless years. I had already brought down one of their number and prevented them from accomplishing their primary objective, forcing them to adapt in a way I hoped they'd never had to before. I had proved they could be defeated and fear, even in these circumstances, was not an emotion I entertanied.

I tear my eyes from watching the remains of my vessel, my first command, plummet into the icy atmosphere of the planet Alchera. Instead, filled with a familiar grim resolve that had gotten me through the many trials of my years, I work my way across the deck, ducking masses of dangling cables and pushing aside chairs that have become unmoored and now float freely in the zero-g environment. I recall the faces of the men and women who sat in these seats and manned these stations. I knew them all by name and could only hope that they had gotten out alive. Though I can't spare them any more thought, I know in my heart their losses will weigh heavily upon me in the weeks to come.

Ahead of me lies a blue shimming field that indicates an atmosphere seal and beyond it, the dim orange glow of emergency lighting that illuminates a familiar form in the Normandy's piloting chair. Despite hearing him over the communication channels, I can't help but feel relief at his survival. The dedicated pilot would never abandon his post, not while he thought the ship was salvageable. Unfortunately for him, my firsthand view of the wreck that was the Normandy did not agree with his current hypothesis.

As I step through the shielding I can feel the control of my body return to normal again and I sprint forward, stopping myself by catching hold of a well worn and currently occupied chair. "C'mon Joker, we have to get out of here!" The words are issued from my mouth as quickly as his rebuttal.  
"No, I won't abandon the Normandy," his hiss of pain harkens to the cost of him doing exactly that, "I can still save her!"  
It hurts me to say it almost as much as it hurts him to hear it. "The Normandy's lost," I argue, "going down with the ship won't change that."  
I can see the sorrow in his eyes as he takes in the truth of my words. When he speaks, it's as though he's losing a part of himself. "Yeah, ok. Help me up."  
I move to do just that but he suddenly sinks back into his chair, alarmed at one of the many flashing readings on his console. "They're coming around for another attack!"

My head snaps back toward the CIC and there's barely enough time to take in the pilot's words before a brilliant yellow beam of energy pierces what's left of the deck, shredding the very heart of the ship in two. I run back toward the atmospheric shielding, not to make sure it'll hold, but to check the pilot's escape pod, our last hope of survival, is still primed. A quick glance is all I need to see that it is and with adrenaline pumping through my veins I dash back to the cockpit, unsurprised to see that Joker has slipped back into trying to save his ship. I grasp his arm mid-adjustment, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from the brittle-boned pilot. I ignore it, I've seen what they're doing to the ship and I know it's a matter of seconds before they hit the drive core and the Normandy rips herself apart.

I take most of Joker's weight as we hobble toward the escape pod, the bright glow of the attacker's energy weapons reflecting off my darkly-tinted visor. The hatch slides open invitingly as we approach and I pause in the entrance, acting as a brace for the beleaguered pilot as he struggles to climb inside. Just as he straps himself in there's a brilliant flash from further down the ship. I have barely enough time to turn and glimpse a hold filled with roaring flames that are swallowed by the gasless void before the atmospheric shielding crumbles. I twist myself left, trying desperately to throw myself into the safe confines of the pod but it's already too late.

The sudden rush rips me from my footing and I flinch as my back slams into something hard. My suit cushions most of the impact and I have enough time to glimpse a wall before I find myself rotating. I thrust my arm out, looking for a handhold and find to my surprise, find one. I look down, and it's the exterior control panel for the escape pod. I know it won't hold me for long. Another beam of energy fills my vision and I look to see it filling the space between me and the pod which is now meters away. A sinking feeling causes my gut to tighten, even as it is overwhelmed by an iron sense of discipline. A cry of "Commander!" from the interior of the pod and a final glimpse of Joker reminds me not only of my duty as his officer, but my duty as his friend. Another surge of energy pulls at my limbs and threatens to drag me away from the console. I dimly register Joker's screaming of my name as, with a resolute glare, I reach for the panel's keys just as my hands are ripped from their holds. For a horrifying second as I drift away I fear I didn't press it, but then the light winks a friendly green and in my peripheral vision I see the escape pod's hatch seal itself shut.

I have mere seconds to comfort myself, knowing my last act will have been to save a comrade, before my vision fills with flame and deadly energy. A massive pressure wave hits me as wreckage flies past and I'm abruptly cast away in a roiling cloud of fire. I find myself spinning wildly with no sense of control, a helpless castaway, an easy victim. I manage to right myself somewhat with the help of some nearby metal sheeting, the force of impact slowing me enough to looking back on the remains of my vessel. I watch in stunned silence as my ship, my home, is split in two and wreathed in a sea of rampant destruction. She was lost, and still they hit her, again and again. The attackers were merciless and I prayed to whoever was listening that they would spare those who'd managed to reach an escape pod.

As a massive chunk of the hull flew past, a familiar paint scheme emblazoned on fractured features, I briefly wonder if the built in air supply of my suit will be enough to last until I'm picked up, either by the hostiles or, as I hoped, an Alliance rescue vessel. My unspoken question is answered seconds later when a chilling sound fills my ears. It's the sound that is never heard twice, the thing every space marine dreads to hear. The atmosphere leak was robbing me of both my air and my life.

_Foolish,_ I chastise myself, _foolish and stupid. There's no way the suit's seals didn't take some kind of hit in those explosions_. My body refuses to listen to reason however and I scrabble desperately for one of the punctures on my back, hoping to plug it with something, anything. The galaxy may have lauded me as one of its greatest heroes, but faced with imminent death, I found myself swiftly re-introduced to the same strains of panic I had once succumbed to on Akuze. I writhe and thrash, fighting frantically against the inevitable. I am struck by a sudden sense of irony. Is this how my struggle against the Reapers truly was, the pathetic, ultimately pointless actions of a doomed man?

My hands grip my throat as my vision begins to blur, as though somehow the act will ward off the suffocation of my air starved lungs. The various pains in my body begin to subside and my hearing dims as my train of thought starts to slow. Somehow my mind registers the fact that I am dying and all I can think is that I failed, that I have broken my word to my myself, my team, and my friends. My chest burns for air but there is none to be had and I fail to notice the spastic flails of my legs. As the last vestiges of pain begin to subside and I realise this is the end, a faint orange glow in my visor draws my eye. My omni-tool. I suddenly recall the routines I had programmed in only weeks before. Should my vital signs ever degrade to the point that death was certain, the device had been set to dispatch a message I had pre-written in one of my darker moments of self reflection after stopping Saren. The recipient was the one woman who had not been on the Normandy with us, though through no fault of her own. Slowly, the faint light of the omni-tool fades as my vision fills with black and finally, a last, fleeting image of her. A sorrowful smile settles itself upon my face.

_Even now, you're here beside me._

**Author's Notes  
**Though I originally planned to boh reveal the contents of the message, the recipient and their response, I eventually decided it suited things better if the ending was left ambiguous. In this way you, the reader, can decide just who the Commander contacted.

-DA.


End file.
